Sam and Dylan: A Love Story
by snowdreams
Summary: Their divorce would be finalised tomorrow. Dylan is deeply troubled by it despite not wanting to admit it, and in a state of distraction as he drives to work, gets into a car accident. With his life hanging in the balance, what can Sam do?
First of all I'm not a medical student, so please forgive any glaring errors. This is also my first medical fic, and I've noticed how hard it is to write if you don't have any medical background In fact Casualty is the first medical show I've seriously gotten interested in it's a brilliant show and I'm glad to have found it. Enjoy :)

* * *

It was a glorious day for Dylan. He would be unofficially divorced tomorrow. He would sign the divorce papers tomorrow, and he would finally be able to shut that chapter of his life down for good.

So why wasn't he smiling?

Granted he wasn't one to smile and when he did been termed as looking akin to a psycho grinning (he never understood that). But he expected to be _happy_. He expected to stroll out of his boathouse with Dervla in hand as they went to their usual walk, mind free of troubles. But it was the complete opposite. The only thing that plagued his mind, as he ate his breakfast, as he picked up his mail, as he went for his walk with his dog, as he got into the car and drove to work, was one thing.

Her.

He felt somewhat betrayed by his intelligent yet incredibly stupid mind. They're going to be divorced. It's brilliant news. The best. This was what they both wanted, wasn't it? He'd enjoy his life with Dervla, and Sam could move on. It would be for the best of them. He can finally walk away from the mess that they were, he tried to convince himself.

Yet even then he knew he was lying. His traitorous mind pulled out memories of them together.

It's going to be over. The divorce would truly be….it. It was a wonderful thing. He's supposed to be happy. He's supposed to be happy.

He wasn't happy.

Dylan switched on the car's music player in an attempt to drown off the annoying thoughts, and out came a familiar song. Oh, great. He had forgotten to change the CDs. It was an old song that he and Sam had used to listen to all the time. Emotions flooded through him as memories flashed back.

He had remembered seeing her the first time. Dylan was not one to believe in all the sweet connotations of love, like love at first sight. It was ludicrous to a logical man like him. Even if he would like someone, he was sure it would be someone with the same or better personality like him. She wasn't. It was her sincerity he had noticed at first. Her eyes were always so caring and warm, fragile yet strong. He remembered everything. How they slowly got close, and when they finally did he had unexpectedly kissed her as they walked by the pier, and she had returned the kiss with want, love. They returned to that same pier for many times in their life, walking Dervla together and holding hands. Their marriage had been difficult but blissful, and Dylan would admit it had been the happiest point in his life. He had never known what it felt like to be happy every day, to want to wake up and see her by his side.

Wetness came to his eyes. All of this would be over tomorrow. He didn't notice the truck that suddenly appeared in his view, not until it was too late. He saw blinding lights and then an almighty crash and the deafening sound of crushed metal. The car flipped over twice, crashing into a ditch, his head slammed into something, and then he knew no more.

* * *

"You alright, Sam?"

Sam snapped out of her thoughts, whirling around to see Robyn looking at her.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." She forced a smile, but she wasn't really feeling fine. She had felt off since she woke up this morning. She didn't know if it was because tomorrow would be the day Dylan would sign his divorce papers (she had already signed hers), and they would be finally divorced. _That's it_ , she thought. The years of their marriage, and them, would be over forever.

"It's strange. He's normally never late."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Dylan. He's 40 minutes late and he's always punctual except for once. In fact he's usually early."

Sam's skin pricked. "You mean…isn't he on his shift?" She had assumed he was absent because he was working on patients.

"Why, no," Robyn frowned. "He's not picking up his phone either."

Iciness trickled down Sam's spine. All morning she had felt something was not right, and now that unease rose. Her intuition with him had always been strong since they were together, and more so when they got married. There was a majority of the time where she struggled to understand him, but they could almost always sense each other. You're overthinking, Sam told herself. She pushed those thoughts away and went back to work, although the unease remained.

It was not until later that the hospital received a call that suddenly they were thrown into a flurry of voices and movement, indicating an emergency had happened.

Amidst the chaos Sam spotted Nick standing with Charlie, talking to him urgently. As she approached she overheard descriptions of a serious car accident with a lorry with multiple injuries and victims.

She pushed through the throng of nurses, reaching them. Car crashes usually resulted in many victims and they required a lot of assistance. "I'll go help them." She said, pulling on her stethoscope.

"No!" Nick quickly stopped her, grabbing her shoulders, to her surprise. "Dr. Nicholls, you can't."

"What do you mean I can't?" she was bewildered.

"Look, you have to see me at my office right? Why don't you go there and wait for me?"

"I'm sure it can wait, Mr. Jordan, this is an emergency…"

"No, Dr. Nicholls. Please go to my office." Nick looked shifty and Sam sensed he was not telling her something.

"What are you hiding from me?" Sam asked. She had always been an intuitive person and could tell when someone was hiding something. Nick didn't reply, his face tight. The unease in her heart mounted, threatening to overwhelm her. "It's Dylan. Is it Dylan?" The look on his face answered her. She paled. "Oh, god. I have to help him—"

"You can't. You know the protocol."

"Tell me what exactly happened, please, Mr. Jordan." She couldn't stop the tremble in her voice.

"A lorry crashed into his car while he was driving. He's on the way in the ambulance now but from what we've been told he's in critical condition."

"I have to help him! He's my…" The words faltered in her throat. Nick seemed to know what she wanted to say,but he still resisted.

"I'm sorry, but you know I can't let you. I can't risk your emotions clouding your judgement. Please wait at my office for news."

She knew he was right. She nodded mutely,collapsing down onto a chair and buried her face in her hands.

 _Please, Dylan, live. Please._

* * *

The paramedics burst through the hospital doors with the trolleys of victims behind them. Nurses and doctors fled to the front, talking.

Sam's breath caught in her throat when she saw Dylan. All she could see was a mass of blood on his face and a red-streaked hand dangled out of the sheet.

"We have a serious head injury, GCS 4, he has a punctured lung and massive blood loss. BP's rapidly diving."

"Okay get him into resus, now! And get the bloods ready! Nick ordered. "Check his blood type from the staff database—"

"It's AB+." Sam said.

Nick looked at her and for the briefest moment something passed between them. He nodded and conveyed that information to the nurses.

The rest of the medical team tended to the other crash victims, which totalled the three. They were in various conditions but not seeming as severe as Dylan's. Their manpower was strained.

Sam knew it was against protocol, but she had to do it. She slipped into the resus room where they had started resuscitating Dylan. He lay there, his body bloodied and broken, eyes closed and face pale. She had seen countless unfathomable injuries during war, and she had thought that would give her an iron spine, but seeing her husband…her soon-to-be ex-husband laying there dying make her quake.

Nick saw her and his expression turned annoyed and exasperated. "You can't be in here!" He admonished.

"You're short on manpower. Let me help, please."

Conflict battled in his face. Only Nick was aware of the true relationship between Dylan and her. The clinical lead finally said, "Fine. But any unprofessionalism from you..."

"I won't."

She immediately slipping into assisting them. Like many times in war, working on her fellow soldier's injured bodies, she slipped onto auto-pilot, separating her mind out of the situation and letting her body do the work. She didn't know how long they worked on him, when suddenly a loud beeping from the machine sounded. "He's crashing!" Lofty said.

"Okay let's start CPR!"

Nick started compressions. The room was silent, as they watched helplessly.

"How?" Nick asked.

"Still no pulse." Lofty said.

Nick didn't stop. "Come on Dylan, not now."

They could only watch mutely as he worked on their doctor's chest. It was never easy treating someone they knew, and their faces said it all. The machine rang that horrendous flatline sound, indicating no life was present.

"How long has it been?"

"Ten minutes."

Sam's heart fell. _No, please, no._

The nurses' eyes were starting fill with sadness and despair.

"We're not giving up. Not until I say so." Nick said, refusing to stop.

"Nick, he's gone." one of the nurse's said, his voice stricken.

"Let me take over." The sentence came out of Sam's mouth before she knew it. Everyone looked at her. Nick regarded her with pulled brows, then surprisingly made way for her without argument.

She resumed CPR, feeling the fractured ribs from the force the previous compressions had made. It was then Sam spotted the glint of the silver on Dylan's finger. Her eyes widened. It was their wedding ring. He had not taken it off. Tears filled her eyes. "Come on, Dylan. Don't do this. You're stronger than this. Please come back." She no longer cared the staff was there. Dylan was still her husband, even though it would be her soon-to-be ex-husband. Despite how grumpy he looked outside he had only ever touched her with gentleness. She remembered everything about him, the way he'd only show his soft side to her, something which he never showed to others. She remembered how she'd call him her gruff teddy bear which became her nickname for him. It earned only a look of annoyance from him, but once she had forgotten to call him that one day he had looked visibly dejected. He had always been the strong one, the one who protected and reassured her when she had nightmares. He'd kiss her softly when she had nightmares of war, holding her tight in his arms. Sometimes, when she got afraid and agitated, he would stay away, but he would never leave, always waiting for her till she was okay again. And it was those memories that had created an irreplaceable place of happiness in her heart, the place that was Dylan.

She didn't know how long she did the compressions for, until a hand touched her arm, a signal to her that he was gone, there was no use. Dylan was dead. _Y_ ou _promised me you'd never leave. You promised._

Sam let out a choked sob, stopping the CPR. She bent over to his face, not caring that the staff was there, and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Dylan." She whispered.

Suddenly the machine came alive with a beeping sound, and the staff stared in shock.

"We have a pulse!" Lofty announced.

Sam could have collapsed from relief. The rest of what happened passed in a blur. Nick took over from there, and they transferred Dylan over to the theatre room where they could operate on him.

Nick forbade her to go in there no matter what, and this time she obediently waited outside. She understood his reasons and was not sure she had the strength to see him undergo surgery either.

Just before Nick disappeared into the room she grasped his arm. "Please, keep him alive." She didn't even care for pretending anymore, and Nick understood.

Nick was someone who was well aware that you did not make promises in hospitals, but he held her shoulders and gazed at her sincerely. "I promise you, I'll do everything I can, Sam."

And then he was gone. Sam felt the unfamiliar sense of helplessness of patients as she stood outside the room, where her husband's life would be decided there. It was the wait that was always the hardest. It was the period where your imagination conjured up with the worst things. Sam recalled the amount of people she had lost in Afghanistan, the blood-stained battlefield, and she curled up tight into a ball in the plastic chair, wishing she could banish the thoughts away, wishing Dylan was here.

When she received news that he had pulled through, the world seemed to collapse around her all at once, and she vaguely recalled arms folding around hers and her finally breaking down and sobbing into a suited chest.

* * *

Sam sat by Dylan's bed. It had been four hours since the surgery, and he lay unconscious, wrapped in bandages. He was stable.

She caressed his hand, the one that held their wedding ring, running her thumb over the silver band. The same one that hung over her breast on a silver necklace. She hadn't taken it off either. The sign of their bond, their love which had fractured.

Despite his claims of not wanting to see her again, he had kept it. It was never easy understanding Dylan. He was complicated yet not, straightforward yet not, and she loved every part of him. It sucked thinking you were the only one still hung over the relationship while your partner had breezily moved on. He was not a master of emotions. But she knew.

She kissed his hand, held it to her cheek, and prayed.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, for a voice made her open her eyes.

"Samantha…"

She came awake instantly. It was Dylan. His eyes were closed but his head was tilted to the side, and he was mumbling. She was still holding his hand in hers.

He rarely called her by her full name. It was a term he used only when it was just the both of them.

"Dylan?" she stroked his cheek.

Blue eyes fluttered open and then slowly focused on her.

"Samantha," His voice sounded so vulnerable. Instinctively she moved next to him, wanting to be close to him, soothe him. He had always been the strong one, protecting her, healing her. He reached out an arm across the bed, trying to reach to her, With a second of hesitation, she carefully she laid herself next to him, thankful of her thin figure and the fairly large bed. Dylan's eyes were shut.

"Samantha…Samantha…" His voice was so vulnerable, so in pain. Her heart tore into a million pieces.

"I'm here, Dylan. I'm here." She embraced him, and he pulled her close.

"I love you," he said. She didn't know if it was due to the drugs, but those three words were rarely spoken between them. Dylan expressed his love more through his actions. Many thought that Dylan never cared about emotions, but it was just that he rarely expressed them. He had only ever reserved them for her. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I love you too." She smiled. Just like old times.

She curled her arm over his, careful of his bandages, and they laid like that until they both fell asleep, her hand in his, hearing his heart beat and that reassuring her that he was alive, that he was here. Just like how they'd had in the past, snuggling with each other until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

She hadn't thought of what would happen if she was found sleeping in the same bed as Dylan. But it turned out it didn't matter, for when Sam woke, they were still in the same position, and no one had disturbed them. Dylan lay asleep beside her. She sent a silent thank you to the staff. By now they would have known. Her husband was alive. That was all that mattered.

She stroked his hair gently. That movement caused him to stir, and familiar blue eyes opened again, this time more lucid than last night.

"Sam," he whispered.

"How do you feel?"

He blinked slowly. "Tired. I thought…it was a dream, that you were here."

"It isn't. I thought I lost you," she choked, touching his cheek. "You were dead."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"Don't do that again. Please, Dylan..."

"I won't. I promise."

They stayed like that for a while.

"This is...a very bad position." He said. "The nurses will see. Two unrelated doctors, _cuddling_ in bed…"

"They already know."

He cracked open his eyes and stared at her. "You always did have a big mouth."

She laughed. "I thought you were gone. I had to save you."

"Nonsense. I'm the one…who saves you. You walk the dog."

"And cook the meals."

"I did make that banana bread once," he muttered.

"You mean that rock-solid chunk of carbon? And I do the dishes."

"You do always the dishes,"

"And keep you sane in social situations,"

"And keep me sane in social situations, that is correct..."

She looked sadly. "Bu those are things…those are things we did in the past. We're not…we're not going to be married any longer, Dylan. We decided, didn't we?"

"We did."

Pain filled her heart "I'm sorry. I should leave…"

She turned to sit up, and a hand suddenly grasped her wrist. She turned, surprised.

"Stay."

One simple word. Dylan looked at her, and she gazed back at him, feeling such conflict, such love for the man that lay before her. How could she possibly understand? But she already knew the answer deep down.

She laid back with him, and after a brief moment of hesitation, slipped her small hands into his large ones. And after a beat, the familiar fingers curled over hers.

"What does this make us, Dylan?"

Of course it was wrong, what they were doing. They were about to be divorced, an ex-husband and wife. "I don't know."

"You kept our ring."

"A sentimental and foolish one-sided action from me. I know. Go ahead and laugh."

"Then that'll make two of us." At his raised brow, she smiled sheepishly and pulled out her wedding ring which hung on the silver chain. "I kept it, too."

"Oh, look at us." He sighed, but his lips quirked to the faintest of smiles.

"Do you regret keeping it?"

His eyes went distant for a while. "A little. I've always preferred to follow my head, but my heart seems to like making decisions when it comes to you. You couldn't stop leaving my mind."

"Is that why this morning you..."

"No. Don't even go there, Sam. It's not your fault. I couldn't stop thinking about...us. I'm not good with emotions. You know that. But I..." He swallowed. "I would like to try."

"I do, too."

"I...I want to fight for us." This was one of the most sentimental Dylan had ever allowed himself to be, and she felt so appreciative of his effort. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. Not even when I have Dervla. She barks and whines when she remembers you're gone, that ungrateful dog."

She laughed, then sobered up. "I have to say the same. I...I had nightmares. For a few nights..."

"You won't ever have to go through that again."

He took her hand, and they kissed.

"Do you promise me?"

"I promise."

THE END

* * *

If you liked this or have any feedback do leave a review! Reviews are absolutely loved and appreciated by me. It's my first time writing in a medical fandoml so I'd like to know your thoughts :)


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